Explosive
by TheyCallMeChicky
Summary: Talk, argue, fight, leave, return, apologize. What else was new? Matt/Mello, birthday fic for BlueVampireQueenofAbiland.


**A/N: **Let me start by saying that it's been a _very _long time since I've written a fanfic. And _damn_ was this one fun to write! It's a birthday fic for the BlueVampireQueenofAbiland, whose birthday is at the end of July. Yeah…anyway, after this one I can do official beta work, and editing is my crack, so… yay for that! There's actually a second reason it goes out to her: you talk me into writing something; you get the dedication.

Mello had always been…. explosive at best.

Which was a word Matt was learning to avoid. Except, of course, when he knew he was going to lose an argument, and Mello was going to storm off anyway, so there was no point in even trying to reason with him.

Or, of course, when Matt was just too damn pissed off to bother with trying to calm Mello down. Sometimes— very rarely— it was only Matt who was angry. In these instances, it was sometimes Mello who tried to smooth things over.

But today, the argument had been heated on both sides. It had scarcely been over for five minutes, but fuck if Matt could remember what it had been about.

He needed a cigarette. No, Mello had been after him to stop smoking indoors, especially in the apartment. And if precedent was anything to go on, Mello would be back in… two minutes.

A minute passed.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five. Dammit, he could have been done by now! Never took him long, especially when he was irritated.

Ten.

Ugh, if Mello was mad enough to stay out for more than a few minutes, especially in the rain— light rain, hardly pouring, but he'd always hated the rain— he must have been really, truly, totally _pissed_.

Buying Mello chocolate never hurt, Matt decided. He could probably make it through his last cigarette on the way to the specialty shop that Mello liked. Grabbing his rain jacket, his wallet, and his lighter, he hurried out the door, foregoing the elevator in favor of the stairs. He fought his way into his jacket, only catching the hole in the elbow a few times before he managed to get his arms through.

Ten minutes, one cigarette, and one hell of an increase in the rain later, Matt had arrived Mello's favorite place to buy chocolate. It wasn't much to look at, and, to be totally honest, Matt thought their chocolate was shit, but Mello swore by their milk chocolate blend.

"Hello, Me— oh. Welcome. May I help you?" asked an annoyed-looking woman, emerging from the back room. Her hands and apron were speckled with brown, chocolate in various stages of drying.

"How much would it be for a pound of milk chocolate?" Matt asked.

"We talking truffles or bars, sweetheart?"

Matt did his best not to smirk. "Bars. Actually, can we do a pound of bars and…two truffles? Maybe a milk chocolate-covered strawberry, too?"

"Wow. Forget someone's birthday?" the woman inquired, weighing out the bars.

"No."

"Annoy your girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Matt corrected dryly. "How much are we up to?"

"Twelve fifty without tax, sweetheart. Anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"Thirteen forty-four," said the woman, handing over the bag.

"Thanks," Matt replied, counting out fourteen dollars and taking Mello's chocolate. "Keep it."

Now, how to protect the bag from the rain without melting the chocolate.

"Would you like a plastic bag?"

"Yes. Thank you," Matt replied, putting the paper bag inside the offered plastic bag.

With any luck, Mello would be back when Matt got home.

With even more luck, he would have an idea where Matt's pack of 'cannot be assed to go to the store' pack of cigarettes had gone off to.

The walk back was quicker— more of a run, really, in this storm!— and Matt ducked into the awning over the entrance of the building as soon as he got close enough, digging into his pockets for his keys. He found them eventually, the words, 'back pocket, babe' coming to mind as he did.

The elevator. The elevator would be warmer.

The stairs, after all, were air-conditioned all year, and damn was it cold outside.

The elevator was empty, save for himself, and Matt whispered, "Please, Mells, be up there…"

He wasn't. Matt swore under his breath, tossing his raincoat down at the door and hunting for that final pack.

He had been hunting for it for no less than five minutes when the door opened, and Mello entered the apartment, swearing loudly as he tripped over Matt's jacket.

"You home?" called Mello. "Matt?"

"Yeah," Matt replied, picking up the bag from The Chocolate Box. "I'm sorry, Mells."

"So you went to the grocery store?" asked Mello. "I'm sorry, too. I brought you something." He tossed a pack of cigarettes to Matt. "You were complaining about being down to the last three last night. Did you smoke the last one after I left?"

"You can tell?"

"You always have at least one when you're upset, you had one after lunch, and you chucked one out the window the second I got home this morning. Also?" Mello added, wrapping his arms around Matt. "Your hair smells like new cigarette smoke. So, why the grocery store?"

Matt didn't respond at first, simply enjoying the fact that Mello was back. He still wasn't entirely used to the idea of the two of them as a pair, so every moment that was spent in Mello's arms?

A moment to be savored.

Mello always smelled like chocolate— a mix of the milk chocolate he swore by, the crappy hot coco mix they kept in the cabinets, and the milk Mello boiled to put the coco mix in.

Often at about three in the morning.

"Matt?" Mello repeated.

"I didn't go to the grocery store," Matt murmured.

"Huh? Then what's that?"

Matt peeled the plastic bag off of the paper Chocolate Box bag, moving only slightly away from Mello. "We had the same idea."

Mello smiled. "You hate The Chocolate Box."

"You don't."

"I do not. How mu—"

"A pound of bars, two truffles, and…" Matt interrupted, reaching into the bag, "a chocolate-covered strawberry for me."

"You bought yourself something at _The Chocolate Box_?"

"Only the strawberry is for me," Matt responded, grinning and twisting off the leaves.

"What do you…?" asked Mello, cutting himself off as he figured out Matt's intention, chocolate-covered end of the strawberry sticking out his mouth.

Mello was, after all, explosive at best.


End file.
